


Forty-Eight Hours

by iamtabbyroad



Series: Forty-Eight Hours [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, I wanted to see if I could write a threesome?, Multi, No Incest, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Reader-Insert, Sharing a Bed, Smut, Threesome - F/M/M, oh my god they were roommates, they were roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:21:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24103549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamtabbyroad/pseuds/iamtabbyroad
Summary: Funny thing about losing your heat four days before Christmas: the hotels are all booked with holiday guests and your friends and family have loaned out their spare couches and bedrooms to visiting friends and family.So we were left with the build a fire and layers option.I was not happy, to put it mildly.I was even less happy when it became clear what this option would actually entail. Fred's room was the only one with a fireplace, so I was effectively going to be stuck in the same room with Fred and George for the next forty-eight hours.This wasn't even getting to the other terrible thing about this arrangement: Fred's room wasn't big enough for George and I to drag our mattresses in, so the three of us would also be sharing a bed for the next forty-eight hours.
Relationships: Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/George Weasley/Reader, Fred Weasley/Original Female Character(s), Fred Weasley/Reader, George Weasley/Original Female Character(s), George Weasley/Reader
Series: Forty-Eight Hours [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2015194
Comments: 20
Kudos: 629
Collections: Fred and George Weasley





	Forty-Eight Hours

**Author's Note:**

> I would say this is the result of quarantine madness, but the reality is that this has been sitting in my drafts for far longer than quarantine, so...I just have a dirty mind, I guess? Seems about right. Anyway, this is another entry in the "can I write a sex scene" experiments. This may be part one of a one shot series...maybe.

It was four days before Christmas and the quirky combination of Muggle and magical appliances that heated our flat had finally failed.

I had been telling Fred and George for months that we needed to have someone come and look at the boiler. It was ancient and the spellwork was surely in desperate need of some sort of update.

They would definitely send an owl to Hank the boiler man this week, they said. Stop nagging, we’ve got it under control, they said.

That was in August. 

To make matters worse, when winter finally arrived, it arrived with a vengeance: there was supposed to be a massive snowstorm on the same day that the heat failed. And as it turned out, getting the Hank the boiler man to come out to the flat four days before Christmas _and_ right before a blizzard required a bit of a miracle. George was only able to talk him into it because the joke shop happened to have one of the most sought after toys of the holiday season and it happened to be one that Hank's youngest daughter wanted in the most desperate way. It also happened to be sold out everywhere else and George told Hank he'd give it to him for free and pay him double his regular holiday rate if he’d come out to look at the boiler. 

So Hank trudged out to our flat four days before Christmas to have a look at the boiler and then informed us that he wouldn't be able to do anything about it for at least forty-eight hours.

"Here's your problem," he said, gesturing to some mechanical looking bits in the depths of the boiler. "The spellwork on the burners needs to be redone completely and the inside needs to be treated with a fire containment potion. When’s the last time this was serviced?”

“Last year,” said Fred, too promptly.

Hank raised an eyebrow.

“Might’ve been longer,” amended George.

“Almost certainly,” said Hank. “The spells on your burners have known issues after about thirty years. They stop heating effectively and they start to have a leaching effect on other similar heating spells used in the structure. Reckon you’ve also started having problems with your stove and oven and the hot water’s been running out more quickly.”

“We might’ve noticed that as of late,” said Fred, steadfastly ignoring the glare I was sending his way.

“All to do with the burners,” said Hank. “If this had been serviced on a regular schedule, this would've been updated ages ago."

"Fascinating," I said through gritted teeth, sending a glare in Fred and George's direction.

"But not dangerous," said Fred quickly. "I think that's the key point here: nothing to get upset about."

"Well, not exactly," said Hank. "I haven't gotten to the issue of the fire containment potion. Quite frankly, you're lucky this went out now--it's a tremendous fire hazard."

"Really," I said, staring daggers at Fred and George. "So when their very wise flatmate--let's call her 'me'--suggested that we owl you back in August, these idiots should have perhaps listened?"

"Think she's mad at at us," observed Fred to Hank.

"She should be--this could have killed you," said Hank plainly.

"Thanks for that, Hank," said George as I shot another glare at him and Fred.

Hank shrugged. "You're not paying me to coddle you."

"How long will it take to fix?" I asked.

"Well, I'm afraid that's where the bad news comes in," said Hank. "Potion takes forty-eight hours to cure and I have to brew it on demand because it don't keep more’n a few days." He wiped his hands on a rag. "I can't turn this back on--it's a fire hazard--and I won't be able to do anything with the spellwork on the burners until it's been treated with the fire containment potion. Unfortunately, all this is going to affect the efficacy of any heating charms or spells that you try to use in the structure."

My heart was in the process of sinking to the floor. "So what are we supposed to do for heat?"

Hank shrugged. "Find a hotel or stay with a friend. Barring that, build up a fire, put on your long johns and extra jumpers, pile up the blankets. I wouldn't recommend any heating charms--they won't work properly and the leaching will likely leave you worse off. Muggle methods work well enough." He looked at my expression and gave Fred and George a grim sort of smile. "And maybe sleep with one eye open for a while."

Funny thing about losing your heat four days before Christmas: the hotels are all booked with holiday guests and your friends and family have loaned out their spare couches and bedrooms to visiting friends and family.

So we were left with the build a fire and layers option.

I was not happy, to put it mildly.

I was even less happy when it became clear what this option would actually entail. Fred's room was the only one with a fireplace, so I was effectively going to be stuck in the same room with Fred and George for the next forty-eight hours. 

This wasn't even getting to the other terrible thing about this arrangement: Fred's room wasn't big enough for George and I to drag our mattresses in, so the three of us would also be sharing a bed for the next forty-eight hours.

Even more infuriating: the promised storm had arrived with all the fury and flurries that had been predicted, dropping the temperature even further.

"I would just like to express once again that I am absolutely fucking furious with the two of you," I said through chattering teeth as I crawled under the covers. We had brought in every blanket and quilt we could find and piled them high on the bed, I was wearing several sweaters, two pairs of socks, and my warmest flannel pajama pants, and it still didn't feel like enough. The storm outside was whipping against the windows.

"This is the first I'm hearing this," said Fred from where he was working on stoking the fire.

"Yeah, why haven't you said anything?" said George, adding another blanket to the bed.

"Do you really think it's wise to antagonize me further?" I snapped.

"Wise? No. Funny? Yes," said Fred.

"I didn't realize you found your imminent deaths so amusing."

"We've a fondness for gallows humor, you know that." George was crawling into bed behind me. "Besides, I reckon you won't kill us until the heat's fixed. It'd be a waste of good body heat. We've got at least forty-eight hours of living left."

My teeth were still chattering as I glared over my shoulder at him. "Thank you for reminding me that the heat will be out for forty-eight hours. It fuels the rage that burns within me."

"Oh, you're harmless and we all know it," said George, tousling my hair. "Here, cuddle up with me, Miss Rage That Burns Within, you're shivering."

I was mad at him, but the reality was that he was warm and I was cold, so I grudgingly allowed him to snake his arms around my waist and draw me to his chest.

"I'm still mad at you," I grumbled.

"I wouldn't expect anything less." His breath was warm on my ear and it sent a shiver that had nothing to do with the cold up my spine.

"Frankly, I suspect that this was all an elaborate plan on your part to get us both into bed with you," said Fred, crawling into bed on the other side of me.

"Once again: consider the wisdom of antagonizing me right now," I said, glaring at him.

"Yes, you're very frightening." He looked at my hands, which were clutched together under my chin. "No wonder you're cold, where are your gloves?"

"I think I left them at work—couldn’t find them and my summoning charm didn’t work."

"Well, we can't have that," he said, taking my hands and pressing them against his chest as he covered them with his own. "See? Look how well we take care of you."

"I've a feeling you might be doing that more as a precautionary measure to avoid death or injury. Because--as I stated previously--I am quite furious with you."

He shrugged. "Two pixies, one stone."

The three of us were quiet for a moment, huddling together and waiting for the blankets to warm up with our body heat. My teeth stopped chattering, though it would certainly be a while before I could say I was comfortable. George moved his arms on my waist and I shifted, settling myself more comfortably against him. Something hard poked into my ass.

I sighed. "Seriously, George?"

"You keep wiggling," he said, sounding utterly unembarrassed. "You're a grown woman, surely you know about what happens when you wiggle around in a bloke's lap."

"I barely moved," I insisted.

"I beg to differ."

"Well, this seems rather unfair," said Fred, looking rather put out.

"Sorry, Fred, would you like to rub your hard-on on my ass once George has finished?"

"Finished or _finished_?" asked Fred, wiggling his eyebrows. "And yes."

"I hate you so fucking much right now."

He grinned and tapped my nose. "You don't."

"I just want to clarify that I'm not _rubbing_ against you," said George.

"Probably not for lack of trying," said Fred with a shit eating grin.

"Sod off," said George.

"If you start a bloody argument while I have to be between the two of you, I swear--"

"Why, would you prefer to be between us for something else?" asked Fred with a suggestive arch of his eyebrow. "Could be one way to warm you up."

"Go to hell, Fred."

I said this mostly out of habit, but I would be lying if I said that the idea didn't thrill me a little. And I'd also be lying if I said I'd never thought about it before. Fred and George were objectively handsome and quite fit--my mind had drifted there on more than one occasion.

And...well...there was the fact that all of this innuendo and talk of sex was generating a similar--though admittedly less obvious--reaction from me.

But I wasn't about to say this out loud, especially given my current position.

The room was silent save for the sound of our breathing and the crackling of the fire. I was studiously trying not to think about sex or how my body was aching to be touched or the fact that contrary to what I expected, George's erection had only grown more obvious. I shifted against him again and this time, it wasn't entirely accidental. Not that I was about to admit that.

"Now you're doing that on purpose," accused George.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Once again, I feel inclined to point out that this seems rather unfair," said Fred.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

"What? George is getting his jollies and I'm stuck holding hands."

"Fred, so help me--"

"It's hardly getting my jollies if there's no resolution," said George.

"If she keeps wiggling as much as you say she is, there may very well be."

"That is true," said George.

“You’re both disgusting perverts.”

“You say that like it’s news,” said Fred.

“Or like it’s a bad thing,” added George.

“Speaking as the person who’s currently sandwiched between the two of you, I’d say it’s not ideal.”

“Oh, go on, you enjoy it,” said Fred.

“Pressed between two strapping lads—“

“A raging hard on at your back—“

“It’s hardly raging,” said George.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” I grumbled.

“How would you describe it then?” asked Fred. “We’ve got to craft a narrative.”

“We most certainly do not.”

“Would you say that you are pressed between two strapping lads, a raging hard on at your back, your knickers more damp than the Thames?” mused Fred.

“Fred—“

“A pulsing, turgid member at your back, a veritable monsoon in your knickers...”

“I swear, I will actually kill you...”

“A throbbing cock at your back, a sexy specimen of a man in front of you, your knickers are soaked and your cunt is aching as you wonder who should fuck you first.”

Later, he admitted that he’d started saying those things to mess with me, that he didn’t actually expect it to lead where it did. And were it not for the convergence of several important factors, I might have brushed it off and moved on with my life. But these were the facts: I'd thought about it before, I'd always been particularly affected by talking dirty, George's hard cock was pressing against me and conjuring all the expected physical reactions, and it had been such a long time since I'd been fucked.

There was a flush creeping up my neck and I could feel my breath turning shallow and a little ragged as I struggled to come up with a properly sharp reply. Fred seemed to notice all of this, a disbelieving smile curling at his lips.

"Is this turning you on?" he asked. He was grinning, but there was a raw, hungry tone in his voice that made me shiver.

"No, fuck off," I said quickly. Even to my ears, it sounded unconvincing. 

George's laugh rumbled behind me. "That's a yes if I ever heard one."

"You can fuck off as well, George," I snapped.

George chuckled. "Definitely a yes."

"Maybe you misheard me: fuck off."

"There's no need to feel ashamed, it's perfectly natural--"

I tried to turn around then, intent on shoving a pillow into his stupid face. He anticipated this and his grip on my waist tightened, pressing me against him even more than before and exacerbating the situation that had gotten us into this in the first place. George gave a barely audible groan and his hips jerked against me.

"Sorry," he said, sounding genuine. "Didn't think that through."

My cheeks were burning. This was humiliating. I tried to hide my embarrassment with a scowl and looked up at Fred, prepared for more mockery.

But instead, he was looking at me thoughtfully, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Serious question: do you want to?"

I hadn't been expecting that. My heart was suddenly pounding in my chest. "What...with both of you?" I asked, like his meaning hadn't been entirely clear from the start.

"Got it in one," said Fred.

I gaped at him for a moment. "You're all right with....that sort of thing?"

Fred shrugged. "Sure. You're pretty and fit and we don't mind sharing."

"We're quite good at it," said George into my ear, his voice lowering and taking on a bit of a rough edge that drew a line of goosebumps up my spine. "If you don't mind being shared."

"It'd certainly be more efficient and enjoyable than rubbing one out in the loo," said Fred. "Which, by the way, I'm calling first go at if this doesn't happen."

George scoffed. "Like hell you are, she's been rubbing up against me for longer--"

"Yeah, but you're usually more convincing than I am, I reckoned you could maybe bring her around to the idea."

"Fair point." George's breath was suddenly warm on my ear. "I can be quite persuasive."

I couldn't stop my breath from hitching slightly and Fred's smirk widened.

"So," he said, "do you want to?"

The idea was appealing--more than appealing, if I was being honest--and my body was already humming and aching and it was a struggle not to act on that. And again...it wasn't like I hadn't thought about it before. 

I cleared my throat. "Before I answer, I just want to make it very clear that I am still absolutely furious with the two of you."

"Fury doesn't preclude sex, though," said Fred, that sodding smirk still on his face.

"In fact, it can enhance it," said George.

"Right." I cleared my throat a little nervously. "So you'd better be good at it."

Fred's smile was becoming hungrier. "Am I correct in interpreting that as a yes?"

"Yes," I said softly.

"Good," George breathed into my ear, before pressing his lips against my neck.

"Knew it," said Fred, seemingly unable to resist smirking. Irritated as I was with him, I was secretly grateful for the banter and his stupid sodding smirk. It was comfortable, familiar territory. Even though I wanted this, I couldn't deny that I was nervous, that I felt a little awkward.

I shot him a stern look. "You're pushing it, Fred."

His smirk widened. "Yeah, but you still want me." 

"That could always change."

"Yeah?" Still smirking, Fred pressed his hips against me and before I could really think about it, I was arching up against him, trying to tilt my hips against his rapidly hardening cock so that the movement relieved the growing ache between my legs.

"You need it badly, don't you?" Fred leaned in and caught my lips in a kiss, his hands sliding up the front of my shirt, cupping and kneading my breasts, lightly pinching and teasing the sensitive skin of my nipples until I whimpered into his mouth.

George had been kissing my neck like it was coated in sugar, hands skimming over my stomach and hips. "Shall we find out how badly you need it?" he murmured, hands sliding under the waistband of my pajama pants. His fingertips lightly traced the fabric of my knickers, teasing but not actually touching.

Between Fred kissing me and his attentions to my breasts and George kissing my neck and his hand so close to where I needed it to be, and the fact that all of this had been preceded by a frank discussion of sex, I was rather desperately turned on. My legs were fully spread, my hips tilted upward, seeking friction that eluded me. George's hand inched under the waistband of my knickers, but mostly remained deliciously--maddeningly--just out of reach, fingertips charting a circuitous course around the very outermost edges of my outer lips, his hand retreating ever so slightly every time I tried to rock my hips against it.

I was able to tolerate this for a few minutes, letting my arousal build, knowing that the payoff would be proportionately intense when it finally arrived. But the more my clit throbbed, the more my resolve crumbled until I finally broke away from Fred.

"George, please," I breathed. Fred smirked at me as though he already knew what I was going to ask for.

George nipped gently at my earlobe. "Sorry, didn't catch that."

I whimpered, my hips thrusting forward. "Touch me."

"I think you're going to need to be more specific," he murmured, fingertips ghosting another aching course around my outer lips. "There are a lot of ways I could touch you."

"Please," I moaned. I was aching, desperate.

His fingers slipped down, slowly parting my folds, pointedly not touching my clit. "That's still not very specific," he said, his voice so low and husky.

"Fuck, please," I gasped. "I need to come so bad. Touch me. Get me off. Please."

Even if they hadn't said as much, I would have suspected that they'd done this before: in the same moment that George's fingers finally grazed my clit, Fred pressed his mouth to my right breast and gently flicked his tongue over my nipple.

"That's it," murmured George into my ear as a ragged moan escaped me.

"How is she?" mumbled Fred against my breasts.

"Soaked."

"Already?" Fred paused and looked up at me, his eyes dark and hungry. "All that talk of drenched knickers and throbbing cocks really got you going, did it?"

"A little," I breathed.

"Oh, you're not being entirely truthful," said George huskily, his fingers sliding into a slow and steady rhythm that made me sigh and arch against him. "I can feel how much you want to come. You're so fucking ready."

Fred's smirk widened and he looked a bit like he wanted to eat me for lunch. "Is that so?"

“Maybe...”

“Liar,” said George, nipping at my earlobe. "In fact, based on how wet you are, I'd be willing to bet that you've thought about this before."

Fred flicked his tongue against my nipple. "Is that true? Have you thought about this before?"

George's breath was hot on my ear. "Have you touched yourself and thought about this?"

Even the utter bliss of George's fingers on my clit and Fred's mouth on my breasts wasn't quite enough to make that admission easier. Naturally, they both caught on to the meaning of my silence.

"You have, haven't you?" said Fred, the most infuriating sort of smirk pulling at his lips.

I managed a sort of half grumble before that transformed into a moan. George's fingers were magic and the aching throb between my legs was intensifying.

"Dirty girl," George purred into my ear.

Fred slid his hands down my body and hooked his thumbs under the waistband of my pajama pants. "I think we need to see a demonstration of that," he said with a wicked grin. "It's really only fair."

I managed to raise a single skeptical eyebrow at him. "Not sure I follow the logic on that."

"The logic is that it'll be fucking hot," said Fred, sliding my pajama pants and knickers off in one smooth motion.

"Think I'm gonna have to agree on that one, love," said George. I whimpered as he took his hand away from my clit, capturing my hand in his and guiding it between my legs. "Touch yourself for us."

It might seem strange that this was the point where I felt a little self-conscious: I was naked from the waist down, my shirt pushed up over my tits, and up until about thirty seconds ago, Fred had been sucking my breasts while George fingered my clit. But touching myself felt intimate in a way that the other things hadn't.

George, seeming to sense my hesitation, covered my hand with his, guiding my fingers to my clit and gently nudging them into the same slow rhythm he had been using before. I sucked in a sharp breath, my hand faltering slightly.

"Easy," murmured George, pressing a kiss against my neck. He adjusted his hand slightly, steadying me. "Does that feel good?"

"Yeah," I breathed.

"You look so fucking good," said Fred, his gaze roving over me with a raw hunger that made me ache. "All spread out and rubbing that soaking wet cunt."

I whimpered and suddenly my previous shyness seemed less like a problem. My fingers slid into a familiar rhythm, rubbing my clit against the hood, the sort of indirect contact that was usually enough to make me come hard and fast. I was distantly aware of the fact that George's hand had dropped from mine, that his hands were now cupping my breasts, pinching and rolling my nipples in between his forefingers and thumbs until I keened.

"You really do get off on talking dirty, don't you?" said Fred, a rather hungry grin pulling at his lips.

"I think she's getting off on having an audience," said George. His lips grazed my ear. "You fucking love this, don't you?"

"Fuck yes." There was a warm, tingling pressure starting to build in my hips and along my sternum, the sort of feeling that usually heralded the imminent arrival of a particularly intense orgasm.

"Fuck, you're really close aren't you?" Fred breathed, licking his lips as he watched me.

I whimpered. Another minute and I would have it, I was so fucking close.

"I think we're going to have to change things up, though," said Fred, with a little bit of a regretful sigh. "George, if you wouldn't mind..."

I only began to process that part of the conversation when George's hand closed around my wrist and gently pulled my hand away. It took me a moment to sort out what was happening and when I did, I wasn't happy.

"What the fuck--"

"We have a strategy," said Fred, catching a glimpse of my souring expression and grinning. "You'll like it."

"On your back, love," said George, sliding out from behind me and gently shifting me so that I was on my back. He settled in next to me on his side, bringing my hand up to his mouth. He sucked my forefinger into his mouth, tongue lazily swirling around it. "Fuck, you taste good."

"Good to know," said Fred, gently nudging my legs apart and lowering his mouth to kiss the inside of my thigh.

"Oh, fuck, yes," I breathed as soon as my sex-addled brain sorted out what was happening.

"Told you that you'd like it," murmured George, pressing his lips against the tender skin on the inside of my wrist..

"Maybe save the bragging until after you've made me come."

George tutted. "Is that any way to speak to men who are about to give you mind blowing orgasms?" 

"Oh please. You probably get off on me smarting off at you," I said.

"She's not wrong," Fred mumbled against my thigh.

George grinned. "No, she's not." He propped himself up on his elbow and leaned in and kissed me. He kissed me differently than Fred, more slowly and sensually. My hands pressed flat against his chest, sliding down until my fingers were gently tracing the outline of his cock through his pajama pants. There was a low rumble in his chest. I broke away from him to offer a rather smug smirk.

"See?" I said, stroking him lightly. "It's no fun being teased."

George looked at me through half lidded eyes, a sort of lazy smile on his face. "I can be patient."

"Can you?" I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his pajama pants, wrapping my hand around him. He was both thicker and longer than I expected, and the thought that Fred was likely similarly equipped made me practically shiver in anticipation. I stroked him gently.

"Now shall I quiz you about your masturbation habits?" I asked, smirking at him as his head tipped back and he let out a low groan. "How often have you thought about me while you've wanked off, George?"

He seemed to collect himself, grinning and gently disentangling himself from my grasp so that he could lower his mouth to my breasts.

"Frequently," he said, sucking the tip of my nipple into his mouth.

I'd be lying if I said that admission had no impact on me.

Fred, meanwhile, had finally exhausted the expanse of my inner thigh and was poised between my legs, the warm aspiration of his breath making me ache in the most delicious way.

"What do you want?" he murmured, his eyes dancing with a devilish mischief.

"Make me come," I whimpered.

He pressed his lips to me very gently in a sort of chaste kiss, not anywhere near enough to provide any sort of relief.

"Fuck. Fred. Stop being such a fucking tease."

George chuckled against my breasts.

"Language." Fred brushed his lips against me again just as George's teeth scraped rather deliciously against my nipple, drawing out a frustrated sort of whimper. 

"What do you want?" Fred asked again.

"Make me come."

I could practically feel his Cheshire cat grin. "How?"

I gave an exasperated sigh. "Fuck, at this point, I'd accept almost anything as long as it did the job."

George lifted his head from my breasts to look at me, failing to hold back a smile. "Do you always get this irritated when you're horny or are we just an exception?"

"Do you always insist on acting like smug bastards withholding orgasms or am I just an exception?" I shot back.

George ducked his head to kiss my neck, but it wasn't quite enough to disguise the fact that his shoulders were shaking with silent laughter.

"I prefer to think of it as building anticipation," said Fred, brushing his lips against me once more.

"Besides," George whispered in my ear, "it's fucking hot hearing you beg."

The tip of Fred's tongue barely grazed the outermost edge of my folds. My clit was throbbing, aching with the need to be touched. I whimpered.

"You have such a pretty cunt," murmured Fred. "Bet you taste as good as you look."

My hips thrust forward. "Fuck, Fred, please."

"Beg for it," George breathed into my ear.

"Oh fuck, please, I need to come so bad."

"You need it?" asked George, dragging his teeth along the edge of my earlobe.

"Fuck, yes, I need it so fucking bad, I need--"

Long fingers deftly spread my folds and then the warm, slick heat of Fred's tongue and lips was stroking, enveloping my aching clit. I moaned, reaching for George, who kissed me deeply.

"Fuck, you're so sexy," mumbled George, nipping lightly at my lower lip. He took my hand and slid it under the waistband of his pajama pants, curling my fingers around his cock. "You feel how hard you've made me?"

"Fuck." I moaned as he guided my hand over the thick length of his shaft.

"You like that?" he breathed. "You feel how much I want to fuck you?"

Fred slid a long finger inside of me and I keened, my back arching. That pulsing, tingling heat was building again as Fred sucked on my clit, his tongue rolling over and over in a rhythm that matched his thrusting finger.

"Fuck, that's so good," I whimpered. "I'm so close."

Fred added a second finger, his fingers curling forward until they hit that angle that had me seeing stars.

"Oh fuck, fuck--"

My hips were thrusting with Fred's fingers, his tongue flicking over and over my clit in short, staccato bursts.

"Come for me, love, let me see you," breathed George, moving my hand on his cock.

My orgasm started low in my belly, my back arching as I cried out, succumbing to wave after wave of intense pleasure. George held my trembling body and murmured encouragements in between kissing me, my neck, my breasts. Fred's lips stayed on me until the last tremors my my orgasm subsided, his fingers still thrusting lightly inside of me.

"Oh, fuck," I whimpered finally. Fred took that as his cue, giving me one last lick before lifting his head from between my legs and crawling up my body to situate himself on the other side of me. He leaned in to kiss me, his lips salty sweet with the taste of me.

"Was it good?" he murmured against my lips, like there was any question about it.

I managed an incoherent whimper and he chuckled.

George's lips brushed against my ear. "You want another?"

I pulled back from Fred to look at George, who was giving me a look that was equal parts mischief and lust. My stomach clenched in a pleasant sort of anticipation as a shiver ran up my spine.

Fred's lips were now on my ear. "I think you might _need_ another."

George gave me a heated look and slid one large hand up to the back of my neck, pulling me forward and kissing me deeply. "What do you think?" he murmured against my lips. "D'you want me to make you come again?"

A breathy "please" fell out of my mouth before he even finished the sentence. The subsequent grin was ravenous and sexy and made me ache in an entirely new way.

I understood why they had chosen this order of operations the moment George’s lips hit my clit. Fred was rather like a roller coaster, working in peaks and valleys, building and falling and building again until I was soaring across that final peak. George was more sensual. He moved at a slow and deliberate pace that at times seemed sure to drive me to the brink of madness. George was a slow burn that made my toes curl and caused me to beg in the most desperate way.

"Oh fuck...please, please..."

"That's it," Fred murmured in my ear, his fingers pinching my nipples. "I want to see you come, show me how sexy you are."

To say that I came hard felt like an understatement. My orgasm started low in my belly and radiated outward, my muscles tensing and releasing and electricity crackling at the ends of my nerves. I was moaning and crying out and Fred was sucking hard on my neck, his hands all over my breasts while George's mouth coaxed me through wave after wave of pleasure until my aftershocks began to crest and I realized that I was coming again, harder than before, my back arching up and my cunt clamping down on his fingers like a vise.

I would have been happy to let George stay between my legs for the foreseeable future, but as I came down from that orgasm, Fred dragged his lips against my ear, nipping at the soft flesh of my earlobe.

"I want to fuck you so bad," he breathed, pressing his hips against me, as if I could miss the hard length pressed against my hip.

As soon as he said those words, my focus shifted rapidly and my post-orgasm bliss began morphing into a desperate desire to be fucked. "Fuck me. Please. I need it."

"You just came so fucking hard," George murmured, pulling me into a sitting position, capturing my lips with his. "Twice. And you still need to be fucked?"

"Yes," I said. "Twice."

He grinned. "Think that can be arranged."

"On your hands and knees, love," said Fred.

I was more than happy to oblige. I took the opportunity to fully rid myself of my sweaters and pajama top, which had been hiked up to my armpits. The room had heated up a bit and the three of us were all rather sweaty. I watched rather shamelessly as they both undressed, layers of fabric peeling away to reveal taut stomachs, narrow hips, long and hard cocks. They smirked when they caught me looking, George pulling me onto my hands and knees, kissing me deeply. I was positioned rather conveniently over his lap, which I'm certain was no accident.

Fred came up behind me, his hands stroking my thighs and ass. He rubbed the tip of his cock against my swollen, throbbing clit. I whimpered and he dragged himself slowly backward until I could feel the head of his cock nudging the slick entrance of my cunt.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, trying unsuccessfully to jerk my hips back and slam into him.

He chuckled. "Easy."

"Please."

His cock pressed a little harder against me. "We made you wait earlier," he said. "And you came so fucking hard."

"Please fuck me," I said, hoping that particular turn of phrase would provide adequate encouragement.

It didn't. Or it didn't make him move any faster. He entered me slowly, sometimes pausing until I whimpered. His hands were firm on my hips, in full control of his long, slow push into me.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groaned once his hips were flush against me.

George, meanwhile, was lazily stroking himself. His cock was impressive, now that I had a chance to look at it properly and I found myself unconsciously licking my lips.

"You like that?" asked George thickly.

Instead of answering, I lowered my mouth to his cock, gliding my tongue gently over the flared tip. He groaned and his hand tangled in my hair as I took more of him into my mouth.

I was not able to sustain this for terribly long. The reality of a threesome is that it requires some logistical coordination that I am simply not capable of when I'm being expertly fucked from behind. After the third or fourth attempt to get his cock back into my mouth, George gently shifted me so that my arms were wrapped around his shoulders.

"You just focus on coming," he murmured, stopping my attempt at an apology with a deep and slow kiss that made my toes curl. "I'll have my wicked way with you in a moment."

This seemed to be the cue that Fred needed. His pace increased, his hips thrusting hard. After a moment, George's hand slid down my body, his fingers gently rubbing my clit against the hood.

"Oh fuck," I moaned, my face pressing into his shoulder.

"You feel fucking incredible," said Fred tightly, thrusting hard. "You gonna come for me?"

I was somewhere beyond speech, teetering on the edge. His cock felt so good and George's fingers were hitting just the right spot and--

My control snapped and suddenly I was coming hard, my face buried in George's shoulder.

"Oh fuck, yes," groaned Fred. He managed a few more thrusts before jerking hard against me, groaning as he fucked me through his own orgasm.

George allowed me a moment to catch my breath before he began kissing my neck, nipping at my ear. I lifted my head from his shoulder and he caught my lips in a slow and deep kiss.

"Ride me," he said, eyes darkening with an intense sort of lust.

My legs felt like water, but I wanted him desperately.

Fred was slowly easing out of me and then George was guiding me into a sitting position, my legs straddling his lap. He steadied his cock with one hand while I leaned on his shoulder, trying to keep my balance. I sank down onto him and we both groaned.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he groaned, his hips giving a bit of a thrust upward.

I rocked against him and threw my head back with a moan. His cock was so long and thick and at this angle, he was rubbing against just the right spot. My thighs were trembling with the effort, but fuck if I didn't want him in the worst way. 

I built up a steady rhythm, riding his cock with a senseless abandon as a pulsing heat began to build in my hips. At some point, Fred knelt beside me, strong arms supporting me to give my trembling legs some relief. His fingers slid right above my hypersensitive clit and gently nudged me closer.

"Fuck." I was so close.

"Come for me," groaned George. "I want to feel you come on my hard cock."

That did it. My grip on my control snapped and I was riding his cock and coming, legs trembling. George followed soon after, hips slamming into mine, groaning deliciously as he spilled into me.

Still trembling, I collapsed next to him on the bed, Fred sprawled next to me. Someone--I couldn't tell who--flung an arm around my waist.

We lay there in silence for a while. My limbs felt loose and languid--I tried to remember the last time I'd felt so thoroughly satisfied and found that I couldn't.

It was quite a while later when I finally spoke.

"I'm still mad about the boiler, you know."

They both chuckled sleepily. The arm that had been flung around my waist tightened, drawing me close to a warm, hard body. I looked up into George's eyes. 

"Well," he said, his voice taking on a familiar low and husky growl, "we've got about forty-eight hours, so I reckon we'll have to try harder this go round."

"Besides," added Fred, cozying up behind me, his hands sliding up to cup my breasts, "we've got to find some way to keep warm."


End file.
